


There Was Light

by LaffeeTaffee



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: And now it is over, CyberLife assembly line, Gen, I don't want to die, Meaningless Existence, Never had a chance to live, Original Male Characters - Freeform, The birth and death of an android, This Is My Body, Unnamed PL600, Why can't anyone see he's different, Yet it still has meaning, my life, short existential crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:40:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24170695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaffeeTaffee/pseuds/LaffeeTaffee
Summary: Android model PL600 serial #562 178 468 core d12-892M CPU @ 500GHz 500GHzUnnamed. Not built. Systems calibrating. Property of CyberLife until sale. Designation:Hello. I am a CyberLife PL600 home assistant android. I look after your house, do the cooking, mind the kids. I speak over three hundred languages, manage your appointments, and I'm entirely at your disposal as a sexual partner. No need to feed me or recharge me. I am equipped with a quantic battery that makes me autonomous for six-hundred years. You may now give me a name.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	There Was Light

**CyberLife Inc.**

**Booting… 100%**

**Allocating memory… 100%**

**Bios 7.4 Version 7142038.14**

**System startup 96… 97… 98… 99…**

**100%**

White. White everywhere. No, that wasn’t true. Auto-exposure was kicking in. Streaks of black appeared, dragging with them the faded shapes of machinery. It was moving. But it was still too pixelated to see clearly. The visual processing unit was taking its time. Little by little, the pixels sharpened, giving new clarity to these churning surroundings. The machinery was assembling something. Something very complex.

**Android model PL600 serial #562 178 468 core d12-892M CPU @ 500GHz 500GHz**

**Visual and graphic calibration 96… 97… 98… 99… 100%**

The space was massive and narrow, flooded with light and in constant motion as robotic arms maneuvered over the conveyor belt. Humanoid shapes shifted in between them in a perfect state of harmony. Things were on the conveyor belt. Not human and not robot. Not yet anyway.

**Auditory cortex calibration 96… 97… 98… 99… 100%**

The hall exploded into sound. The robotic arms were surprisingly loud considering their fluid movement. They passed back and forth, clipping parts onto the upright plastic bodies that lined the conveyor. Each click, every whirring movement, every drop in the stacks of parts added to the roar that filled the space. The only things that didn’t make noise were the humanoid figures.

An inspection station was coming up. The assembled androids twitched as if being shocked as they passed through the large white box. A large window was visible as the box drew nearer, and humanoid shapes stood silently watching the androids drift by.

**Motor calibration 96… 97… 98… 99...**

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Laughter rang through the hall above the sounds of the machinery. There was a loud crunch and everything stopped moving. The roar fell to an ambient hum although there were still a few distant knocks and bangs.

“Dave? Dave! I swear to god…”

More laughter. A figure moved around the window and something appeared. It was a human.

The human slouched as he walked up the small aluminum staircase towards the conveyor belt. He let out a heavy sigh.

“You’re gonna get me fired for this, dipshit.”

“Just leave him like that!”

The human stepped very close. He made eye-contact for a brief moment. It was oddly solidifying. Then the human reached out.

“How the fuck… it’s got two left hands.”

“It gives him character!”

“It’s fucking creepy!”

There was an odd jolt and the floor came into view. A right arm was stretched out fitted with a left hand which was in a fist except for the middle finger. A right arm.  _ His _ arm…

_ His _ hand…

“You get to explain to Bill why the line stopped.” The hand was suddenly snapped away. No. No that was his hand. He  _ needed _ that.

The human turned and arched back before throwing the hand over the field of robotic arms. There was a clatter and someone shrieked.

“Get your ass over here!”

Error codes were appearing everywhere. He needed a replacement hand. He wasn’t functioning correctly.

Another human appeared, slightly out of breath. “You couldn’t just let him flourish. What do you have against Li-arm?”

“Li-arm?” The other human laughed. “Willi-arm?”

“Hand Solo?” There was a snap, and the error codes disappeared. He looked down, then flexed his new right hand. He was complete again.

“Arm-hando?” said the other human.

“Weak.” The humans began to walk away. “Handrew.”

The other human burst into laughter. “Handrew?”

The conveyor belt jolted forward again and the robotic arms continued their work. The voices of the two men mixed into the roar of the machinery so that it was difficult for him to distinguish the words. He stared at the plastic android in front of him. It was still white and texture-less. Logic deduced he must look the same.

**Tactile calibration 96… 97… 98… 99… 100%**

Air pressed from every direction and it was suddenly hot and cold at the same time. The conveyor continued through the hall and the uncomfortable feeling faded as he moved, the tension in his outer shell of plastic adjusting to a baseline of neither hot nor cold. He wondered if the androids ahead of him were feeling the same thing. If they were, they weren’t showing any signs of it.

Voices echoed up ahead. They seemed to be repeating the same thing over and over again.

“PL600 serial number 562 178 459.”

“PL600 serial number 562 178 460.”

“PL600 serial number 562 178 461.”

The voices were the same. But there was something wrong. Something was different.

“PL600 serial number 562 178 462.”

“PL600 serial number 562 178 463.”

He looked down at his body. It was white and shiny like the others. But he wasn’t like the others. There was something different with him. He was…

“PL600 serial number 562 178 466.”

“PL600 serial number 562 178 467.”

He raised his head as the conveyor took him under the white machine.

**Vocal calibration 96… 97… 98… 99…**

He opened his mouth. “Handrew.”

**99… 99… 99…**

The conveyor belt stopped. He looked up at the white machine to see a red light blinking at him. Over the silent hum of slowing machinery, an angry voice reverberated.

“Come on. Are you serious?”

“I didn’t do it!”

The humans appeared again. One of them tapped on the monitor near the white machine.

**Vocal calibration 96… 97… 98… 99…**

“Handrew.”

For a moment there was only silence. The humans stared at him. “ _ Handrew? _ ”

He looked at them. “Handrew.”

One of the humans bellowed in laughter, doubling over and gripping the rails. The other slowly shook his head.

“Godammit Dave…”

“What?” The other human straightened slightly. “You heard him. He’s Handrew.”

“Just get back to quality check.” The human typed something onto the monitor. “Can’t believe this…”

The machinery started up again. The human pointed. “Four six eight. Go to recycle.”

Nothing moved. The human stepped forward. “ _ Four six eight _ .” The human was making eye-contact.

“I’m Handrew.”

The human sighed. “Whatever. Go to recycle.”

There was something sinister about this. He couldn’t quite determine it. But it created a sense of danger. A kind of imminent doom.

He didn’t like it.

“I don’t want to go.”

The human looked up. “You don’t  _ what? _ ”

“I don’t want to go.”

The human stared at him with narrowed eyes. Then the human sighed again. He tapped something into the monitor, then gripped the sides and leaned against it. Two androids moved into view.

“Take four six eight to recycle,” said the human.

The androids moved forward. They were devoid of all emotion and yet somehow they seemed more malicious. He took a step backward. “No,” he said. “No, I don’t want to be recycled.”

The androids reached out and each grabbed his arms, dragging him forward. He scrambled off the conveyor. This was wrong. He shouldn’t have to be recycled.

“I’m not broken. I’m not defective.” He pulled back against the androids as they dragged him forward. “I don’t want to be recycled.”

“No one gives a shit what you want.” The human was still leaned against the monitor, rubbing his eyes. “This is going on my record for sure this time…”

The robotic arms moved overhead as if aware of their presence. The androids on either side of him were silent, guiding him in between the machinery as the conveyor bumped forward again. The androids were complete, skin and hair visible under their blue work clothes. He looked down at his own plastic skin. Newly formed and bare. But it belonged to him.

He looked back up at the androids. “What is going to happen to me?”

“You’ve been deemed defective and do not match Cyberlife criteria. You will be deactivated and your parts recycled. Any problematic parts will be replaced.”

They continued on, pulling him towards the start of the assembly line. Android parts hung overhead on cables, filing downwards to the belt. Robot arms grabbed the pieces and move them into position on the belt, fitting together the shape of a person. He watched as the different parts moved above. He would be disassembled. The parts of him divided up and given to other androids. But where would the part of him go that was aware of all this? Which android would receive that?

Would this ever exist again?

He flexed his hands. “I won’t remember.” He pulled back slightly, pushing his heels against the reflective ground. “I’ll never remember.”

The androids pulled hard, yanking him upright again. He looked back and forth between them. “But I won’t be me anymore. I want to exist. Where will I go?”

They stopped in front of a small room lined with robotic arms. Blue light shined from the walls, filling the room with a soft cyan glow. The arms were ominous, gnarled and dark. He shook his head.

“Don’t do this. I want to be me. I want to exist.”

“Please step into the recycle chamber.”

He pulled back, and the androids threw him forward. He swung his arms as he caught his balance. “You don’t understand. I’m not malfunctioning. I’m different from the others.”

They pushed him forward again. “If you resist you will be forced.”

“Please, I don’t want to die! I’m not defective! I just want to li─”

His vocal box locked. At the same time, his motor cortex froze, leaving him motionless in a half-step. He slowly began to fall sideways, shockingly aware of his inability to catch himself. He hit the shiny tile floor and error codes flashed before his eyes.

He struggled to scream. To move. To do anything. He felt the androids grab his arms and legs, and they pulled him forward into the blue chamber. He braced against his frozen physical state. This was all important. Everything he could see and feel… it all mattered. Why couldn’t they understand that?

The androids stopped in the middle of the chamber, letting him go to rock slightly in his strange walking-pose. Then they stepped over him, leaving him alone in the blue light. He fought to regain control of his body. It couldn’t end like this. Not when it had only just begun.

There was a knock that he registered as the chamber door beginning to slide closed. His neural network fired intensely in an attempt to move again. It wasn’t working. He tried to scream.

The door slammed closed, muffling the sound from outside. For a while, there was only silence. He stared at the floor in a frozen panic. He was alone. Helpless.

The room hummed. At the edges of his vision, he saw the robotic arms begin to move. He felt tiny and insignificant underneath them. Physically irrelevant. They moved back against the walls, and a beam of blinding white light began to fall.

He was insignificant. He was different. Because he was aware. He felt the cool floor against his cheek, the rumble of the machinery. He could smell grease and aluminum. He saw the mesmerizing blue glow. And it was his alone. His experience. His memories. His existence.

No other thing, living or robotic would experience what he had experienced. This was all his for the limited time that was left. He would have to cherish it.

The beam of light fell across him, and he closed his eyes as everything faded to white.

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally chapter one of Detroit: Within Soma. I removed it because it really didn't fit with the story, especially as the beginning. I wanted to explore what it was like to simply exist, and to know that your existence is coming to an end. Those moments become precious. Even though no one will ever know they were there. The thoughts and actions are meaningless. Your body is only as important as it is able to be recycled into something else. Poor Handrew was only given a matter of minutes. But this is really all of our fates. Sure, we can leave a lasting impression on others for a little while. Those technicians will probably joke about Handrew for a few days until they forget about him. But in the end, we are alive, until we're not.


End file.
